at; and there was a parchedness that
was not thirst, a tingling to clinch that Criminal Thing menacing the
Nation, to clinch and strangle it to a death not honored in the code of
white-corpuscled anaemic study-chair reformers.

"Well," he said, as the other came limping down to the shore, "I didn't
think there could be enough of the savage in me to enjoy a manhunt."

The old Briton looked queerly at the young fellow.

"A'm beginnin'--," he said slowly, "A'm beginnin' to understand y'r
lynch law in this country--an' the _why_."

"What do you make of it?" asked Wayland, too excited to notice the
other's abstraction.

"A'm beginnin' to understand if y' monkey with the law much longer in
this land, the whole Nation will go locoed like you, Wayland--with a
blood thirst for righteousness--a white passion for the square
deal--an' God pity--that day!"

The fugitives had reached the far shore of the lake, landed and were
riding off when a second thought seemed to bring one man back to the
water's edge. He stooped, heaved up a rock, threw it through the
bottom of the old punt.

"You'll have to do better than that to keep me from crossing," said
Wayland.

The fellow was aiming his rifle. Wayland and Matthews jumped behind
the big hemlocks.

"He's fulling a skin bag wi' water."

"Then, they intend to cross the Desert," inferred Wayland; "but they'll
have to go farther to slip me."

One of the riders was scanning back with a field glass.

"Looking for number six--Of all the colossal effrontery--they are
actually going to speak."

The fellow nearest shore lowered his rifle and trumpeted both hands.

"Speak louder--can't hear ye." Matthews had gone to the edge of the
lake. The answer came faint and muffled.

"Where's--our--pardner--?"

"Hold up y'r hands--all five," roared back Matthews.

The arms of all but the hurt man went above heads, hands facing.

"Y'll find y'r man's carcass in the bloody mess where ye sent the
sheep--! d' y'--see yon eagle?--'Tis pickin' his bones--" roared
Matthews through funnelled palms; and both jumped back to the shelter
of the hemlocks. The outlaws drew together to confer.

"They don't believe us," said Wayland. "They'll camp in the timber
over there for the night and wait. All right, my friends! You'll not
have to wait long; no longer than it takes you, sir, to find our pack
mule and the stray bronchs, while I build a raft. We can't cross the
lower end for the moraine